Six Feet Under

November 13, 2017
By kking27 BRONZE, Wilbraham, Massachusetts
kking27 BRONZE, Wilbraham, Massachusetts
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Alibis Bar and Pub sits on the corner of King and Williams Street, filled with slurs and shrieks from drunk men and women and music so loud it could burst both of your eardrums at once. It’s 1 in the morning. One more drink won’t cause anymore harm, I thought. Little did I know that that one drink would lead to the bane of my existence. That of being six feet under.
“You’re not leaving, Katelyn. Give me your keys. You’re drunk as Hell. You can’t even form a sentence correctly,” my best friend, Kim, says as she holds out her hands waiting for the car keys.
“I’m fine,” I say with a long pause.
“Keys. Now.”
“No. I’m good, Kim. I’ve never gotten into an accident, what makes you think I’ll get in one now?”
“Fine. I’m not going to keep arguing with you, there’s nothing more that I can do. I give up. See you later,” she storms away with a face full of fury.
I walk out of the bar, tripping over my own feet. I unlock my grey Nissan and struggle getting into the front seat. I grip the steering wheel with extreme force, my foot presses on the brake, put the car in drive and speed away. The world outside begins to spin in circles as I drive ninety-five miles an hour through the slippery, twisting and turning roads.
I’m totally fine I think to myself. Why does Kim always think the worst of me?
As I continue to drive, my vision begins to blur. The trees on either side converge into a muddle of brown. I look out the window to my left.
“What was that?” I ask myself aloud. “It’s probably nothing.”
With each minute that passes by, an eerie feeling sets in. It’s almost as if there’s something out there-something that’s watching my every move. While continuing to drive on the ghostly abandoned, I approach an abnormal looking bridge. A miniscule silver guard rail on either side protects the wooden planks that create a connection point between the two sides. A spine-chilling sound from the water down below causes me to slam on my brakes. It sounds like someone is screaming. I take an extensive breath and shut my eyes for a short minute. Hoping this strange feeling will be eliminated, I open my eyes slowly and am face to face with him.
He stands diagonally from me and stares me down, not blinking once. A full six feet in height and has muscular, sleek muscles rippling under his skin unnaturally smooth and featureless skin. The left side of his face is black in color while right side of his face is chalk white. His hairline starts at the top of his head. Black hair gently cascades down his back down to his elbows. His beady eyes are blood red. A row of long jagged fang-like teeth lines his large mouth. His lips, which are the same blood red, appear to be in a perpetual grin. A sharp iron claw comes out of each hand’s fingers and thumb. In his hands he holds a wicked looking scythe as though it is an extension of himself. The clowns clothes that were once bright fluorescent colors had long faded and the dingy material was now torn and frayed. His stiff body moved slow but with purpose to my vehicle in which I sat panting, trying to capture my breath.
As he continues to walk forward, I release the brake and put my car into drive again. The world seems to spin around me, nothing is stabilized. The clown proceeds to walk, picking up his speed. My car seems to have a mind of it’s own, causing me to swerve uncontrollably while trying to avoid one of my greatest fears. My car hits the small guard rail once, but I immediately grasp the steering wheel and turn it to the left. That was a mistake. When I turned to the left, I hit the other guard rail, my hands feel numb, and my car begins to spin uncontrollably. I try to grip the steering wheel but nothing helps. I’m falling off the side of the wooden-planked bridge into the murky water underneath,the same water that had made the spine-chilling scream down below, causing me to stop on this wretched bridge.
I attempt to unhook my seat belt. My attempt is useless. The water rushes around on the outside of the car. Suddenly a window breaks. Like a dam, every drop of the water surges into my vehicle and I am still unable to break free. Before I know it, the water swells up my lungs cutting quickly causing each short breath to come to a halt.
“ This is the end,” I say to myself.
Sure enough, it was the end. In a few days my body would be found, buried, and then I would spend the rest of my days in the darkness… six feet under.

The author's comments:

My inspiration for this piece were three ofmy greatest fears: clowns, falling off of a bridge, and drowning. I attempted to work all of those three into a flash fiction piece. 

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